So, I’m currently house hunting here in Los Angeles, and I found this adorable house on craigslist that I thought would suit me and my roomie-to-be just right. Sure, it looked like it had been decorated bySmurfs on some first-quality blotter, but that was the charm:

So I went to see this house. First, I was met by a very cute cat named Oishi. I asked jokingly if Oishi came with the house, and was told, not jokingly, “yes”. Ok, well, I can handle a cat. Fatdog could use the company during the day. But I was pretty no on the fact that the central heat was busted (you do actually need that in the winter here) and that the bedrooms shared a wall (really? That’s just a bad idea with grown-ups.).

Then i noticed something that is just out of the frame in the photo. A bright orange trapdoor in the living room floor. The landlord hadn’t mentioned it, so I had to ask “So I see you have a trapdoor in the living room floor…”

“Yes”, said the landlord “that’s where I live.” I really thought the man was kidding. Until he opened up the trap door, and underneath it was what had once been the garage. It was now a tiny one-room apartment, accessible only through the trapdoor.

WTF?

Who in the world is OK with their landlord living in a hole in the floor like some kind of wacky troll? Popping up at all hours to use the kitchen or the crapper?

SRSLY. WTF?